Harry Potter and the Muggle Methods
by Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: When the entire school turned against him for the second time, because of the Goblet of Fire, Harry had enough. He was going to show the people of Magical Britain just why they shouldn't be making enemies out of the wrong people. All the while, using muggle creations to teach them. A/N: Harrymort much later on. GoF AU. Dark!Harry. Rating may change.
1. The First Task

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **QLFC Round:** **6**

 **Team:** **Ballycastle Bats.**

 **Position:** **Seeker**

 **Prompt: ** Write about a light character committing the sin of your choice. I chose **WRATH**. It makes people do terrible things despite them feeling entitled to their actions.

 **AU- Canon Divergence. Harry shakes the foundations of Magical Britain when he acts out in anger. Will be Harrymort in later chapters.**

 **Dark!Harry.**

 **Chapter Length: 1,295 words.**

* * *

Harry lifted his wand to the sky and instead of summoning the broom like he said he would, he summoned… the other object.

Harry may or may not have managed to find out that Dobby worked at Hogwarts and may or may not have convinced the Elf to help him sneak from school to look for help in defeating a dragon. And he may or may not have convinced said Elf to help him into a military base where he may or may not have stolen an assault rifle... among other things.

And so Harry had set it on his windowsill, with the first cartridge already loaded. He was allowed a wand and he would use _that_ to summon the rifle. If no one wanted to help him then he would help himself. He had the rest of the ammunition in his pockets just in case he needed more.

They forfeited the right to have their dragon live when they decided to force him to stay in the tournament! It was his life or the dragon's. Hagrid would be heartbroken no doubt, but it was a do or die tournament. People had died in the past! It was as if no one cared what happened to Harry all because they had assumed about him for the umpteenth time in a row!

Harry ducked behind a boulder and focused on his happiest memory. Once cleared, he cast a Patronus, smiling as Prongs leaped forth and began to gallop around the arena. Bagman's commentary loudly proclaimed Harry's skill and his own wonder and how a fourteen year old could use such a complicated spell when so many older magicals couldn't even form a wisp.

Well, they were idiots who were too lazy to even try.

While the dragon and the audience remained interested in the stag, barely anyone noticed the muggle weapon fitting itself into his hands.

So after much trial and error, he had managed to learn how to - at the very least - shoot the bloody thing. Harry took a deep breath to center himself.

Standing up quickly and whipping the gun out to face the dragon, Harry took aim and fired mercilessly, trying to ignore the sudden blast of noise in his ear that disrupted the dragon's roaring and Bagman's commentating.

He knew the shots hit when the dragon jerked back in shock at it's supposedly tough hide being penetrated by sharps pieces of metal traveling over two thousand feet in less than a second.

Harry didn't have the technical knowledge on how to use the rifle, but he did get how to work the trigger and so long as the weapon faced the dragon and no one else, he knew he was doing it right at least. Though if it hit someone else he was hard pressed to care at the moment.

And the Horntail fell to the side, the horrid screeching filling the arena. Harry could see one of the eyes close and he realized that he'd blinded it on one side.

Once the bullets ceased, he shifted behind the boulder and fumbled for another cartridge. He could probably get close enough to the egg now, but why stop at where he was? He'd kill the dragon first. He'd killed a Basilisk before, so what was stopping him from killing a dragon? Just another ridiculous victory to have on his list.

Someone wanted to get him killed and he was going to prove that he was not to be trifled with! He was a child that an entire school had shunned and he was going to get his revenge on them all one way or another!

Besides, there were laws about this kind of thing. He'd checked out of curiosity. The Basilisk was Harry's because he managed to fell it, just as the dragon was going to be his.

The second cartridge was finally loaded and Harry took aim, unleashing the next round of bullets on the already downed dragon, taking out it's other eye and left wing in the process. He was ruthless and just found himself not caring because he could have been spared this and yet Dumbledore had lied to him.

 _Why?_

What purpose did it serve to keep him in the tournament when he didn't want to be a part of it?! He could have just said 'no' while acting in loco parentis. Since Harry had no parents and his aunt wasn't his guardian by wizarding law - and probably not my Muggle law either - she had no say in what happened at school. Dumbledore took hold of that particular ability on behalf of all students in similar situations.

Then to find out that he could have sold the Basilisk and probably made protective clothing out of it's hide, just annoyed him. Why did everyone assume that he would know everything? Who was the one telling everybody that he was super smart and amazing? He'd give anything to knee them in the knackers.

Harry was drawn back to the present when a feeble roar echoed through the stadium, forcing him to pay attention to what was going on.

The dragon was barely moving and the stands were silent as death. Like the dragon's upcoming demise. And all through it, Harry didn't bat an eyelash. He was in the right. His actions were well deserved and he felt no pity or guilt over the matter.

Harry squinted, seeing the flickering of the golden egg in the distance. With a confidence that he didn't really possess, Harry stepped out from behind his shield, noting how the dragon did not move to fight him. It lay against the jagged rocks beneath it, neck twisted at an odd angle as blood slowly dripped from it's wounds.

The commentator was even quiet, probably terrified at the realization that Harry was using very destructive and unmerciful methods just to win. Well Harry didn't give a bleedin' damn about anyone else's feelings. _His_ life had been on the line, making it one of the most important ones in the arena at present.

He sat on the rock and waited as the dragon slowly lost it's life, watching as the bloodied limbs grew stiff and the damaged eyes close up finally. The great body gave one last shudder, before going still. He only felt a smidgen of sadness for the poor thing but he couldn't go regretting his actions now. He had an egg to get.

Harry sighed to himself and fetched the egg from the nest, nodding at the chilled surface of the metallic creation.

He whipped around and whistled loudly and the team of Goblins he'd contacted for assistance, came rumbling into the stadium, ignoring Bagman's questions and anyone else who tried to stop them. The extraction of the dragon began right then and there and Harry planned on having them work on the Basilisk as well, once the first task ended officially.

It paid to be on pleasant terms with the Goblins. Who knew that remembering someone's name was such a big deal to them? And who knew that they'd love nothing more than to stick it to the Ministry as well as Dumbledore?

In face of the questions being hurled at him from the Headmasters and even some of the students, Harry would merely shrug and answer, "You should have let me back out when I had the chance to. Now I'm doing things my way."

"Why did you use a Muggle method?"

"To annoy you. One Muggle weapon kills a dragon but not even ten wizards can stun a dragon. Pathetic."

Harry slung the rifle over his shoulder and sauntered up to the castle, egg firmly tucked into his side.

 _How can I use Muggle methods to win the second task?_ he wondered.

* * *

 **A/N: The first chapter is done! This will be a multi-chapter fics with a Dark!Harry. Prepare yourselves!**

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	2. Before the First Task Pt 1

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

It had been your average Monday. Well, that was actually a lie. An average Monday for Harry Potter used to involved doing his homework in the common room but that became nearly impossible because of his housemates.

They couldn't seem to decide if they wanted to cheer him on or tear him down. Some had obviously wanted to be a part of the Triwizard Tournament and felt that he had cheated - much like his ex-best friend had - and others thought it would bring their House more notoriety.

Something about Hufflepuffs not being good enough to represent Hogwarts. Harry hadn't really cared much at the time because he had been internally panicking over what he was supposed to do for the first task.

An underage teenager was expected to compete in a dangerous tournament. Harry had searched everything he could find in the library because he _had_ to know! He _had_ to prepare himself so there wouldn't be any surprises halfway through the competition!

Basically, every task was designed to test the champion's mettle and Harry had read up on what they had done in previous years.

A century ago, the tasks were considered 'barbaric' and that any future tournaments would certainly have more consideration and be better managed.

That did not make him feel any better! They had used Kraken several times in the 1700s! Someone even had the great idea to use a Nundu in 1560, which ended up killing nearly everyone in the arena because Nundu were as large as a three story house and had toxic breath!

Level Five creatures were obviously okay to use in the tournament which meant that Harry had to prepare himself for others. Facing a Basilisk did not in any way prepare him. He'd managed that win out of pure luck. If Fawkes had not been there, Harry would have been dead. Plain and simple.

Harry was decent at magic, all things considered. He didn't possess any super talents unless Parseltongue counted. He was not like Hermione in any way. He could not perform miraculous feats despite what books claimed he could do.

His fellow students sneered at him when he walked by. They made derogatory comments about him 'knowing everything' or 'thinking highly of himself'. These people who knew next to nothing about him were throwing him under the bloody bus!

Where did they get all these wild notions?

Harry's experience with the Slytherins had left him relatively unaffected by the badges Malfoy had created. He was so used to the bigotry that members of that house liked to spit his way that it became second nature to brush it off after four years of the same treatment. At least Slytherins didn't pretend to be on his side and then abandon him when the going got tough or the public opinion did an about face.

Not like the other houses! He remembered very well what had happened in his second year and how easily his fellow students had been swayed by the words of Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff in the same year.

Magical Britain seemed to be of a similar mindset and were ruled by whatever happened in the media. The popular opinion always won allegiance and people would quickly switch back and forth at the drop of a hat if it meant that they were no longer in the minority.

Harry was swiftly becoming sick and bloody tired of it.

First he was the Boy-Who-Lived! Then he was the Heir of Slytherin and was evil for being a Parselmouth. Then he was some poor soul who was the sole focus of an evil wizard and needed to be protected for his own good. And now he was an attention seeker and glory hound.

They couldn't seem to make up their minds and it had become old very quickly.

Harry quickly learned that unless someone presented themselves, he was very much alone and would most likely go the rest of the school year as such. Just another repeat of second year, without his friends to see him through this time of course.

He flipped a page in the book he was reading. The demonic, Monster Book of Monsters. It was actually really useful. He hadn't used it much the previous year for fear of it chomping off his hand, but now, there was more at stake than loss of limb. Loss of life seemed to be more important.

According to the book, creatures that were of XXXX rating or higher were considered Rights. If someone managed to kill a creature of such status, they were allowed to keep the carcass and do what they wanted with it.

That meant harvesting potions ingredients, using the hide, and possibly anything else people could come up with for a rare, dead body.

Immediately, Harry checked on Basilisks and learned some interesting information.

Basilisks were rare these days and getting your hands on any part of one would make you incredibly wealthy. Basilisk were resistant to spells and were only vulnerable in the face. That meant that their scales were much like dragon hide and could make durable clothing that would aid in protecting the wearer.

Had Harry known about this ahead of time, he could have had some made, because the Basilisk was his by Right of Conquest after all.

Unfortunately, that was not feasible at the moment because the task was in five days and the stitching of such magic resistant, protective clothing took weeks.

 _Great._

The teen banged his head against the desk of the unused classroom he was hiding in.

He hated reading books. He hated studying. And he hated having to be in this tournament.

* * *

Dragons!

It had happened purely by accident, and by that, he meant that he had seen something in the forest from his window in his dorm, and decided to check it out.

He and his fellow champions had to face dragons! Harry had fled the scene immediately, returning to his dorm to retrieve the Monster Book of Monsters.

He then spent the entire night pouring over it and only resting when Sirius fire called the Gryffindor common room from someone's house.

Sirius' advice over the dragons was something along the lines of Transfiguration and turning something in the terrain into an animal. Harry appreciated the idea, but nixed it immediately. That was sixth year Transfiguration and he wasn't that fond of the class to learn such in only four days!

Also, Sirius provided some insight into his worries about the Durmstrang headmaster and explained that he had been a Death Eater who got off on easy charges by giving up all the information he had. Basically, the man was a coward.

The rest of his evening was spent stewing over this newfound knowledge and wondering just how he could defeat a dragon when it took more than twelve wizards to merely stun one.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	3. Before the First Task Pt 2

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

 **-This is fun!**

* * *

Three days until the first task and Harry was no closer to coming up with some sort of strategy than he was the night previous. Instead, he sat through all of his classes, the agitation bleeding into him the more the time passed.

If there was one thing that was good about this tournament, it was that they at least had the decency to allow the champions a break from school. He did not have to study for end of the year exams this year because he was exempt from them like all the other champions. That one, small mercy in the sea of turmoil that was his life.

The Monster Book of Monsters advised that should someone approach a dragon, they should do it in high numbers and to stun first and ask questions later. The face was the most vulnerable place on a dragon, much like with a Basilisk. Aiming for the eyes was the best chance if someone was alone when facing the dragon.

Harry knew some good spells but long distance aiming was difficult. He would have to be within fifty feet of the creature and he abhorred the very thought of even being within visible distance of it.

How would he maintain his desired distance while still managing to defeat a dragon? Was such a thing even possible? How fast were dragons anyway? Were they faster than Basilisks, because if that was the case, then he was dead either way.

And would they even have the decency to keep the thing chained up? Would it be set loose in the arena of their choosing? Was the end objective truly to defeat a dragon? Really, did they think that seventeen year olds would be capable of doing what even Dragonologists struggled to do on a daily basis?

The more Harry thought about it, the more bitter he became. This tournament had a history of being bloody and dangerous and when his name came out of the goblet, he'd been more worried about unwanted attention being on him for the fourth year in a bloody row!

Now that he had more time to consider the implications, he could tell that someone who was old enough to be considered an adult in Magical Britain, was trying to get him killed.

Harry was not like the others his age. He was not blinded by 'eternal glory' and 'wealth'. Most, if not all of the students, had not taken Dumbledore's warning seriously because they lived relatively easy lives and couldn't even comprehend the thought that one of them could die in the tournament. It was always about fame and fortune first, safety and comfort second.

Harry would give anything to switch out with somebody. He even read through the tournament guidelines - which had been revised over one hundred and fourteen times - and there was no possible way for him to switch places with anybody. There was no way for him to skip out during the tasks. Even if he was bedridden with terrible illness or broken bones, he could _still_ lose his magic!

Hell, Ron wanted to take his place so badly and Harry would have loved to not be the one in danger for once!

Currently, Harry was stewing over the possibilities. What could destroy a dragon?

An explosion perhaps? But an explosion could destroy anything, not just a dragon. But were there magical explosions capable of the same devastation as, say, an atomic bomb?

But would that be considered too much? While Harry found himself steadily losing his care for anyone that wasn't himself, did he really want to eradicate a good portion of Britain all because he was angry and wanted to teach them a lesson?

Strangely enough, he kind of did. But his issue was with the magicals, not the muggles, so blowing up the entire island was not in the works.

Would a bazooka work? One to the face maybe?

How strong was a dragon's hide?

The Monster Book of Monsters was once again put to good use.

Dragonhide was strong enough to withstand most magic. Ritualistic curses and extremely Dark Arts, were of the only few ways that magic could harm a dragon. And a Killing Curse would kill it without harming it, but that didn't really count. Especially since he couldn't use an Unforgivable Curse in order to help himself.

However, there were tales. Tales of certain wizards in the Middle Ages who used enchanted swords to fell such beasts. One Godric Gryffindor had used his own sword to defeat a dragon that had attempted to claim Hogwarts as it's hoard.

If a sword that was charmed to not break, could slice off a dragon's forepaw, then obviously weapons that weren't magical should be able to injure a dragon. And to think, Gryffindor had managed such a feat with only his own physical strength.

Harry had to sit back and imagine what would happen if a piece of metal moving faster than a human could swing a sword, pierced a dragon's hide.

And that lead to this very predicament.

Was it possible to transfigure something into a gun? Was there even a spell that did things like that?

Most magicals seemed to have deluded themselves into believing that Muggles were some sort of underdeveloped species that weren't capable of any true danger. Like, it seemed that Magical Europe had widely forgotten the Witch Hunts and what havoc non magical people had managed to wreak over the magical communities.

If only Harry could find some way to remind them all of just what Muggles could do.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the thought. If he could get his hands on some weapons, he would be set!

Now, how did he get away with leaving the school to find such weapons? And where the bleedin' hell would he even get any?

"I think you should ask Dobby."

Harry jumped, the book falling to the floor and his heart nearly pounding out of his chest in his fright.

There was a blonde girl in the room with him! How long had she been there and why did she know Dobby?

"Hello, Harry Potter. I'm Luna Lovegood."

Her voice was airy and light and made him think of curtains made of sheer fabric, strangle enough.

Her hair reminded him of Malfoy, but it trailed down to her hips and was styled in messy waves. Her eyebrows were so light he almost thought she didn't have any for a second, which gave her dotty appearance a stronger presence.

She wore a pink jumper, radish-like earrings that seemed to float a little, and an odd necklace that reminded him of a Butterbeer cork. To top her odd appearance off, she was not wearing shoes.

"What?" he asked, feeling dumb for being unable to keep up with her swift speech.

"I said that you should go ask Dobby for help. He's in the Kitchens around this time of day. Or you could wait until tonight. The other Elves are scared to clean Gryffindor Tower because they've been finding small hats and shoes and Dobby is the only one willing to brave the mess."

"How?"

She smiled. "He works at Hogwarts, of course!"

"Why?"

"Honestly, I had expected this to go better," she mumbled, looking off to who knows where. Her grey/blue eyes fixed upon him again, much clearer than before. "Dobby is not a true Elf here and can come and go as he pleases. Elves can Apparate within wards at any time. Dobby considers you his best friend and would do anything for you. Including breaking into a Muggle military base in Edinburgh and stealing military weaponry if it meant saving your life."

The blond then turned and flounced from the room with a parting, "The portrait of fruit in the Hufflepuff Basement will lead you to the Kitchens. Just tickle the pear."

Harry was left to consider her words and realize that she had somehow known what he was thinking and had given him the resources necessary to see his plan through!

Who was Luna Lovegood?

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	4. Before the First Task Pt 3

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

With the unexpected aid of one Luna Lovegood, Harry had found himself making his way toward the Hogwarts Kitchens. He had been a little skeptical, until he had tickled the pear and had been greeted with the opening that led to a large room.

Large tables, reminiscent of the ones in the Great Hall, took up most of the space. From what he could tell, they were somehow linked together. It would explain how the food just magically seemed to appear out of nowhere as if blossoming on the tables.

The room was filled with House Elves. From every corner, there was an Elf doing something with something.

Harry hadn't been expecting any of them to acknowledge him, but the moment he walked in, hundreds of baseball like eyes turned in his direction, and several Elves asked if he needed something.

Some were holding platters of food while others were holding large pots of boiling liquids.

Harry thought House Elves were pretty awesome, but he did not like their mentality. That they _had_ to do whatever they could to please whoever came along. Sometimes, he wished they were allowed to have their own personalities, without having to adhere to whatever their Master or their Master's friends wanted.

Of course Harry hadn't really gotten a chance to look over any of the Elves, before he was almost knocked over by a sudden weight slamming into his legs. And whom should the weight belong to? Dobby.

The excitable little Elf had decided that a physical greeting was in order, and his bright, green eyes shined happily as he stared up at Harry. Harry was touched by the devotion that was showed to him, despite them not really knowing each other all that well. It was like that one being who was on his side, was a House Elf.

But at least he had somebody.

Harry gave the House Elf a smile and asked if they could go elsewhere to talk. He also might have stolen a treacle tart off of passing platter as he was walking by. But that was neither here nor there.

Carefully and quietly, Harry informed Dobby that he was in need of some assistance. The House Elves new that Harry had been entered into the tournament against as will, so it did not shock Dobby when he mentioned it. Dobby took the situation a lot differently than he expected.

He thought he would have been worried for Harry's safety, but instead, Dobby had burst into tears about how touched he was that the 'great Harry Potter' would come to him of all beings for help. Harry didn't really know what was the big deal was, but he let the Elf have his moment.

Harry was an incredibly emotional creature, and when he was allowed to express himself in any way he felt was necessary, he usually was in a better mood and his performance was better. So Harry could totally give Dobby the time that he needed in order to gather his wits.

When Dobby had finally righted it himself, he agreed to help Harry with the First Task. Harry outlined a plan, and the Elf agreed to it immediately. He did not even stop to consider that Harry was basically going to be breaking and entering, stealing, and most likely murdering another magical creature.

No, Dobby seemed to only focus on the fact that his life was in danger once again, and that Harry needed all the help he could get.

That was how Harry found himself gallivanting about Scotland, searching different army barracks for different Muggle weaponry.

Harry had to think about all the magic that many wizards did not know of. House Elves were capable of many extraordinary things. Elves were meant to be invisible. Unless they had been summoned, it was supposed to be as if they did not exist in the house. Something that impressed Harry a lot, was their ability to turn themselves invisible and anything they so chose invisible, in order to go unseen.

It proved especially helpful for Harry who could not use his magic outside of Hogwarts, without him being found by the Trace that was on his wand. Therefore, Harry had to rely on Dobby for pretty much everything that was going on. Dobby handled the magical section, and Harry handled the plotting.

And it all went over splendidly.

They had come away with enough ammunition to probably fell an army of one thousand men. Especially if they were to use one bullet each.

Harry had hundreds of bullets to go through, so he would have enough time to practice his aim.

And how hard could it be to use a gun? Muggles used them all the time!

Of course, Harry had to learn the hard way, that handling such weaponry was a lot harder than we thought it was. He only had a couple of days to learn how to at least aim the damn thing.

So he wasn't that great, and he lost over seven hundred bullets, but that was okay.

Dragons were pretty big and they took up a lot of space. So if his aiming was a little(a lot) off center, he was certain that he would still manage to hit the creature somewhere.

He simply couldn't wait to rain down calamity upon the heads of the residents of Magical Britain. Force them to understand the dangers that Muggles posed to them. He would make them understand that he was not a person to cross. And finally, he would make them understand him better than they ever thought they could.

Change was coming. Time was passing. Eventually, Magical Britain would be forced to acknowledge people outside of their jurisdiction.

It would be glorious.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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